Besides, during this busiest time of the year, when the crops were getting started, there seemed to be little opportunity for social intercourse. At least, so it seemed on the Atterson place.
They were a busy and well contented crew, and everything seemed to be running like clockwork, when suddenly "another dish of trouble", as Mother Atterson called it, was served them in a most unexpected manner.
Hiram was coming up from the barn one evening, long after dark, and had just caught sight of Sister standing on the porch waiting for him, when a sudden glow against the dark sky, made him turn.
The flash of fire passed on the instant, and Sister called to him: "Oh, Hiram! did you see that shooting-star?""You never wished on it, Sis," said the young farmer.
"Oh, yes I did!" she returned, dancing down the steps to meet him. "That quick?""Just that quick," she reiterated, seizing his arm and getting into step with him.
"And what was the wish?" demanded Hiram.
"Why--I won't ever get it if I tell you, will I?" she queried, shyly.
"Just as likely to as not, Sister," he said, with serious voice. "Wishes are funny things, you know. Sometimes the very best ones never come true.""And I'm afraid mine will never come true," she sighed. "Oh, dear! I guess no amount of wishing will ever bring some things to pass.""Maybe that's so, Sis," he said, chuckling. "I fancy that getting out and hustling for the thing you want is the best way to fulfill wishes.""Oh, but I can't do that in this case," said the girl, shaking her head, and still speaking very seriously as they came to the porch steps.
"Maybe I can bring it about for you," teased Hiram.
"I guess not," she said. "I want so to be like other girls, Hiram! I'd like to be like that pretty Lettie Bronson. I'm not jealous of her looks and her clothes and her good times and all; no, that's not it," proclaimed Sister, with a little break in her voice.
"But I'd like to know who I really be. I want folks, and--and I want to have a real name of my own!""Why, bless you!" exclaimed the young fellow, "'Sister' is a nice name, I'm sure--and we all love it here.""But it isn't a name. They call me Sissy Atterson at school. But it doesn't belong to me. I--I've thought lots about choosing a name for myself--a real fancy one, you know. There's lots of pretty, names," she said, reflectively.
"Cords of 'em," Hiram agreed.
"But, you see, they wouldn't really be mine," said the girl, earnestly. "Not even after I had chosen them. I want my very own name! I want to know who I am and all about myself. And"--with a half strangled sob--" I guess wishing will never bring me that, will it, Hiram?"Never before had the young fellow heard Sister express herself upon this topic. He had no idea that the girl felt her unknown and practically unnamed existence so strongly.
"I wouldn't care, Sis," he said, patting her bent shoulders. "We love you here just as well as we would if you had ten names! Don't forget that.
"And maybe it won't be all a mystery some day. Your folks may look you up. They may come here and find you. And they'll be mighty proudof you--you've grown so tall and good looking. Of course they will!"Sister listened to him and gave a little contented sigh. "And then they might want to take me away--and I'd fight, tooth and nail, if they tried it.""What?" gasped Hiram.
"Of course I would! " said the girl. Do you suppose I'd give up Mother Atterson for a dozen families--or for clothes--and houses--or, or anything?" and she ran into the house leaving the young farmer in some amazement.
"Ain't that the girl of it?" he muttered, at last. "Yet I bet she is in earnest about wanting to know about her folks."And from that time Hiram thought more about Sister's problem himself than he had before. Once, when he went to Crawberry, he went to the charitable institution from which Mother Atterson had taken Sister. But the matron had heard nothing of the lawyer who had once come to talk over the child's affairs, and the path of inquiry seemed shut off right there by an impassable barrier.
However, this is ahead of our story. On this particular night Hiram washed at the pump, and then followed Sister in to supper.
Before they were half through Mr. Camp suddenly started from his chair and pointed through the window.
Flames were rising behind the barn again!
"Another stack burning!" exclaimed Hiram, and be shot out of the door, seizing a pail of water, hoping that he might put it out.
But the stack was doomed. He knew it the moment he saw the extent of the blaze.
He kept away from it, as he had before; yet he did not expect to pick up any trail of the incendiary near the stack.
"Twice in the same place is too much!" declared the young farmer, glowing with wrath. "I'm going to have this mystery explained, or know the reason why."He left Mr. Camp to watch the burning fodder, to see that sparks from the stack did no harm, and lighting his lantern he went along the line fence again.
Yes! there were the footprints that he had expected to find. But theburning stack was even farther from the fence than the first one had been-- and there were no marks of feet in the soft earth on Mrs. Atterson's side of the boundary.
